no joke: it's cold

In terms of winter, I’ve found this one pretty mild. Early on it was rough, but this year the old man just seems kind of melancholy. Sure he’s dumping snow on us every now and again, but for the most part his heart isn’t in it. And I should know. Parking in the hinterlot exposes my soft, pasty-white flesh to the ravages of winter’s blasts. I was thinking these thoughts last week and the old man must have taken offense to my insolence. No sooner had I celebrated my vanquishing of the season when the winds changed. All week they have been whipping about, making a balmy 35 feel like a prickly 10. The old man is a cruel charlatan indeed, lulling us into an atypical calm and then slapping us in the face with a chilling winter blast. You win this time, old man. But I've got three words for you: CFC.